Ice Cream Parlor
by REDskies
Summary: Because a single flavor isn't enough to describe their stories.
1. Double Scoop

"**The hell! You think I'd wear something like that? Use your brains, you idiot chihuahua."**

Ami looked at the padded hanger in hand. A black, simple dress with a few sparkles on the front. Ami even went to the trouble of specially tailoring the matching black elbow-length gloves to match the girl's comparatively-short hands. She was somehow miraculously able to attain two copies of the same designer ensemble (at drastically different sizes no less), and this was the kind of pathetic thanks she got?

"**It looks perfectly stylish, you know."**

Taiga swallowed and looked away.

"**I-Its... The c-c-chest area, alright?!"** Taiga cried, her voice rising to an extremely loud volume by the end of the sentence.

It wasn't every day that the girl would admit of her physical issues to the likes of Kawashima Ami, but this was a desperate situation. There would, after all, be people of some form at the party.

_People like... Like... _

_..._

_People. In general._

Ami looked at the dress, then back at Taiga's chest

_Ah._

Of course, the well-endowed and shapely model never really considered such when buying the dress. It looked perfectly presentable when she tried it on, and for the sake of the performance (if she didn't buy the dress, Taiga would buy them, and the model couldn't allow that, could she?), thought Aisaka would look fine in it too. Its just that she forgot to factor in the issues of their difference in... Certain physical attributes. She had completely forgotten the swimsuit incident.

Ami sighed. She never knew she'd be in for so much trouble, when Taiga had come to her in proposal for singing at the Christmas party, 'in the spirit of the season'. If she had known, she'd never have agreed to such... Irritation.

"**You're such a nuisance."**

–

Taiga looked at the dress. It was, without a doubt, the same one, though with considerable alterations. Alterations, which made it a great, great deal better for her. The sparkles, which had been once-present at the flat-cut neckline, was now covered by a wide ribbon. Not too wide, just wide enough to make her chest area look a little more impressive than it probably was.

Ami held her own dress in the other hand, also refitted with new adornments. A ruffle of fabric was now present at the top of the dress.

"**Will this satisfy you then?"**

Aisaka frowned at the dress.

I thought she'd force me to wear the old one.

"**... I'll let you off just for once, chihuahua."**

–

**A/N:**

I was thinking that Ami and Taiga should have been pretty good friends to do that duet then, haha.

This will probably end up as a series of short drabble-y bits, comments and criticism (and suggestions) appreciated!


	2. Peppermint

**9pm**

_Thwonk._

An unceremoniously loud sound can be heard, coming from the living room. Ryuuji pulls his gaze away from the trigonometry homework on the table, to the extremely large, pink plastic bag now sitting beside him. A few more seconds of intense staring proved to be of no explanation, so he looked up to Aisaka, equally unceremoniously standing beside the bag, her cheeks slightly flushed from the run.

"**Let's start our preparation now."**

Ryuuji, completely lost as to what preparation there was to be done, simply raised an eyebrow.

"**Don't give me that look, you stupid dog. Put this in the player,"** Aisaka said, as she thrust a DVD at his face.

Clueless (and out of habit), Ryuuji took the disk, and walked over to the DVD player, attached to the small television in the living room. As he crawled over, he noticed the small wordings printed on the cover.

**The Day The Seaweed Demon Came After Us**

"**... Couldn't you have picked a better movie to watc-"**

_Smack._

Ryuuji rubbed the spot on his head where his own pencil case had been thrown at him.

"**Hey, it was just a-"**

"**Shut up and put it in! Or do you really want what happened in that dream to come true?!"**

It was then, that he _remembered_. Remembered the dream from the previous night, which Taiga (rather coincidentally) also had. Remembered the badminton batch he had won, on a complete fluke and stroke of luck, and remembered Taiga's proclamation of her support for his new, hopefully-blossoming relationship with Minori, to be further developed on this trip to the beach.

_Actually... Would that dream be as bad as I thought it up to be...?_

…

_Yes, it would._

Ryuuji clicked the player shut, and shuffled back to his table, where Taiga was now sitting.

The opening credits rolled.

"**Fast forward it. We have a lot more to get through."**

Picking up the remote, Ryuuji closed his exercise book. He didn't think anything would be accomplished tonight.

--

**10.23pm**

Another DVD was stuck into his face.

**Death Of The Unavenged**

… _She really needs to pick better shows._

He stuck the CD in without another word, and pressed the fast-forward button without being asked. Ryuuji reached out for the popcorn bowl.

_This is going to be a long night._

–

**11.56pm**

No CD cover was shoved into his face this time, but he reached across the table, to the bag, and pulled another plastic cover out.

**The Sewage System**

Ryuuji raised an eyebrow at the now half-asleep Aisaka.

She shrugged, and he stuck it in.

--

**2.01am**

Ryuuji looked to his left, where Taiga was splayed out onto the table, her chin resting on its surface, her arms laid in front, eyes closed.

He rubbed his eyes, and eyed the bag, which didn't really seem any smaller than it had, when they first started.

"**Do you still want to wat-"**

"**Pmmt mm thuu smary mm..."**

He honestly had no idea what she just said, but by her feeble gestures towards the bag, he supposed it was a yes. Ryuuji rubbed his eyes. Sleep looked pretty good right now.

"You don't look like you could watch another one, you kn-"

"Just put it in, you lazy dog."

Well. That, he could understand.

**Bloody Screams of The Night**

He sighed, somewhat resigned.

--

**4.18am**

Yasuko came in through the door, as she always did; Drunk and giggling.

She did the same things as she always did.

Take off her stilettos, throw her coat onto the tatami, trip over the bodies of Ryuuji and Taiga.

Oops. Not the last one. Not usually, at least.

Still in a vague stupor, she pulled herself up to a kneeling position, giggling to herself at her "two children".

The movie marathon had been abandoned, though perhaps not intentionally. The table was no longer used to hold chins, or support splayed hands, for now the tatami was doing a decent job of it. Ryuuji was flat out on the floor, one hand half-folded onto his abdomen, the other outstretched to his left, which Taiga was comfortably using as a pillow for her own head. She herself, was in a semi-curled ball, her head buried into Ryuuji's side.

Yasuko giggled more, and shuffled off to the next room, which she came out of, an over-sized blanket in her arms.

Throwing said blanket over the two, she crawled over to Ryuuji's other side, and cuddled up under the covers.

_Heehee... I love my family..._

–

**8.14am**

Prying his sleep-crusted eyes open, Ryuuji was greeted by the sight of a sleeping Taiga, curled up nicely in his arms.

… _This is just another bad dream..._

He tried to turn over to the other side, where his mother was curled up in his other arm, her own arm securing the three of them together.

… _A very weird, bad dream..._

–

**A/N:**

I always associated peppermint ice cream with late nights and horror movies. 'Cause its so green and... Stuff.

As always, comments, suggestions and criticism appreciated! Thank you for the two reviews!


	3. Double Chocolate Chip

"**I hate her because she thinks that she's able to read me like a book."**

"I hate her because she's in too deep to see it all."

"**I hate her because she's an idiot."**

"I hate her because she thinks she's able to solve everything by herself."

"**I hate her because she's so candid with everything, but its never the truth."**

"I hate her because she has everything and nothing, all at once."

"**I hate her because she's so discreet with everything and nothing, all at once."**

"I hate her because she's playing a childish game with everyone else."

"**I hate her because she's trying to change it all."**

"I hate her because she's a fake."

"**I hate her because she's making me more guilty and confused than I already am."**

"I hate her because she never looks me in the eye."

"**I hate her because she started this fight."**

"I hate her because she's so much like me."

–

**A/N:**

I_ think_ it should be pretty obvious what 'pairing' is written here. Ask if you're not sure.

References to episode 21 here.  
Thank you for the reviews and favourites, comments, criticism and suggestions (especially for plots or whatever) are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading.


	4. Rocky Road

It was cold.

The weather was bone-bitingly cold, and that was the only thing she could be a hundred-percent sure of, that night. It didn't matter that she was wearing a padded parka, a woolen hat, a scarf around her neck. The cold still got through, irregardless. No, wait. Or did the coldness come from her? Now, she wasn't even sure of the most trustworthy of facts.

Then again, she hadn't been, for a long time.

As she stood there, in front of the school, in the dead of the night, she couldn't even be sure what she had come here for. Until she saw him. Him, sitting on the head of a bear, a sight which would usually be classified as disturbing, now tipping more over to the side of 'confusing'.

He stood up, clearly startled at the words which came out of her mouth.

Right now, she couldn't even remember what she had said, exactly then. It didn't matter, did it? Insignificant things to the important ones. Then, it had been exceptionally significant. But now, were her words of the same weight? She, quite frankly, couldn't be sure.

As the words spilled out of their own accord (they must have been previously thought of, for them to have that kind of movement. They must have been, but she couldn't remember when they were given the effort. Perhaps on the walk there? Where her feet led her to a destination out of their own accord?), she could remember looking into his eyes.

They weren't superficially kind-looking. They were surprised. They didn't do justice to the soul which they were the windows of.

She blinked.

Then, she couldn't see the eyes of Ryuuji.

She could see Taiga, collapsed on the concrete pavement, sobbing out a single name. Who's name was it? She couldn't remember for a second, wondering if it were important. Then it came to her.

_Ah. So it is important then..._

She could see Taiga, in all of her hysterical glory, her feet stained with the dust from the sidewalk, her tears mingling with the dirt.

It wasn't right.

It didn't look right. It looked like one of those pictures in the museum, where everything is upside down and inside out and simply anything but right-side-up. It was jarring, and it just wasn't _right_, it wasn't meant to exist. Taiga was not supposed to be here right now, sobbing her heart out, screaming Ryuuji's name, in what seemed very much like vain.

Vain, because he wasn't coming to her rescue, like he always did. No, he was here now, right in front of Minori.

She blinked again, and she saw the boy in the bear-suit, the head still sitting on the floor, so she could see his eyes.

_Blink._

She could see Ryuuji's face this time, though not the one which he was giving her right then, on Christmas eve. No, this one felt... Warmer. Behind him, the glass panel showing the interior of the beach house was present. She could remember how hard her hands had gripped the railing. They were talking. It felt right.

She could hear the fireworks.

She could watch him laugh tentatively.

She could feel the warm breeze on her neck.

She could vaguely make out the outline of a UFO.

It was there, she could _feel_ it. Feel it, sense it, taste it. Not see it though. Not yet. Because everyone knew that if you swiveled your head too fast, with the intent of just catching the glimpse of a UFO, it would most likely disappear. You were supposed to slowly turn your head, follow your instincts, and if you were lucky, you might see it.

But not now. It was too early. So Minori kept her head fixed straight, and she laughed at something else Ryuuji said.

She'd take her time, she told herself.

She blinked again.

Ryuuji's lightly-flushed face appeared again, in front of the school. She looked at him for a while, not wanting to blink. Not wanting to ruin what was already there, what was reality.

She pulled the hat down over her eyes. She had seen enough. She didn't need any more memories to remind. She had enough.

"You know, Takasu-kun. About UFOs and ghosts, I really think I shouldn't see them."

–

It was cold.

The weather was bone-bitingly cold, and that was the only thing she could be a hundred-percent sure of, that night.

When memories turned into facts, and facts into something less worthy than memories. It was something simple, yet profoundly worrying.

It _was _cold. She was sure of it, this time.

–

**A/N:**

I re-read this, and found less sense in it than when I was thinking about it. How... Like me. Haha. Hope you can understand it.

Thank you again, for all of your support! Every view, favorite and review makes me really happy. Comments, suggestions and criticism are all received with open arms!


	5. Potong

She gripped the hand which seemed so small, in her manicured ones.

She looked down, onto the head of deep-blue, and could already the sense the expression on the face. One of express contempt, hate and anger. Bending down, she could now look into his eyes.

In his eyes, was a fire which was not meant to burn at the fragile age of five. It seemed misplaced, and it aged him more than he was supposed to look. Kids his age were supposed to smile with complete innocence and sweet, sweet obliviousness. They weren't supposed to have hate imminent in every muscle of the face.

_He looks so much like him_, she thought, absently rubbing her index finger along his stiff cheek.

"Ryuuji-chan, smile for Mama?"

He didn't, and he kept his gaze fixed on the door. Fixed on the shoe rack, now missing three pairs of shoes.

"...Ryuuji-chan, give Mama a hug?"

He didn't, and she could feel the rigid stiffness in his body as she put her arms around him in a one-sided embrace. She could feel it, literally feel the immense (too immense, to come from a five year old) hate pulsating out of his small form. It was disconcerting at first, then saddening.

She had caused a young child – her own son – to experience such strong hate, far too early in life.

The woman placed her forehead on the boy's small shoulder.

"Mama's sorry, Ryuuji," she whispered.

_I'll make sure you're happier. Much happier. I'll make sure you'll have everlasting-happiness forevermore. _

The tears began to flow, the sobs heaved her body.

Ryuuji relaxed. He put his own arms around his mother. His only mother. His mother, who was still here.

"Ryuuji's sorry too, Mama."

–

**A/N:**

Double post! Double inspiration!

Just for your information, 'potong' is an old sort of flavor of ice cream sold in Singapore, the sort you can get for fifty-cents a pop. You don't find them around much, and most people don't really like it/remember it now.

We really need more Toradora! fics out there, I tell you.


	6. Durian

He sat there with the rest of them, in the corner, absently scratching at his nose, laughing way too loudly at a joke which probably didn't deserve that much laughter anyway. His hair was long, uncombed, and totally out of style, as far as everyone else in the cafe was concerned.

With his stained sleeve, he accidentally knocked over the glass of water on the table, soaking the boy sitting next to him. Laughing guiltily, he tried to mop the pool of water up, as the waitress closest to the table did it in one effective swoop. Seemingly involuntarily, he let his eyes wander to her (Body? Face?), as he grinned (what she assumed to be) flirtatiously.

She smiled, couldn't help but be intrigued by this one.

Most of the guys here dressed up in shirts and suits, spiked up their hair and paid generous tips as their form of 'flirtation'.

He didn't, and it was strangely refreshing.

"Table fourteen!"

She grinned, picking up the tray as she sashayed over. She could feel his eyes on her (which part of her?) as she took their orders.

And she could feel his incredulous stare at her back, after she slipped him a slip of paper with the magical words on it.

"Call me."

–

**A/N:**

Heh, some HarutaxGF love!

Tell me what you think of it, yeah? Comments, criticism and suggestions appreciated!

A big (BIG) thank you to shuriken51, who has reviewed every one of the chapters!

By the way, durian flavoured ice-cream (or actually, durians in general) usually only appeals to a minority, thus the reference here ;D Also to clarify, potong is actually not an actual flavor (epically big mistake on my part), but a 'type' of ice-cream, like double-scoops, etc. Potong apparently means 'cut' or something in Malay, 'cause that's how the ice-cream looks like, in blocks. But the analogy still stands!


	7. Float

Kawashima Ami stared at the drink machine. She did this every day, every day since she stepped into this school as a student. She knew these three drink machines like the back of her hand, perhaps even better, by now.

The dark blue one on the left was the most prone to dropping extra change, and it also had the warmest cold-drinks. The small white one, to the right of the gap between the machines, had the least variety of drinks, and often displayed the 'stocked' sign, even when it had run out of a particular beverage. The orange one on the left had a sticky collection unit, resulting in you having to stand there (looking like a fool) for approximately three minutes, trying to pry the drawer open.

However, the collectively oddest thing about the three drink machines, was that they all stocked pretty much the same things. Even so, Ami never strayed from her standard drink: Mocha. The chocolate flavored coffee had been a favorite of hers since she'd been introduced to it by one of her modeling friends. It was the thing she _always_ picked, the one constant thing which could _always_ rely on.

Till recently, that is. For some reason, her hand no longer readily headed for the button below can of mocha. Her mind began to wander to the possibility of other drinks.

There was orange juice. Something which couldn't quite decide if it wanted to be sweet or sour, so it just rested somewhere in between. Sometimes you could taste a bit more of the sharpness which cut into you just so, sometimes the hidden sweetness of it would surprise you. Ami's finger hovered over the lighted button for the juice.

_Too... Too childish._

The next button would send a green tea down. This green tea was the natural sort. Not as conservative as the type made at tea ceremonies, but it herald the label of 'un-sweetened'. She knew the type. Or at very least, she _thought_ she knew the type. Bitter when you least wanted it to be, strangely calming when you needed it. It was addictive too, you couldn't stop once you started.

_Too... Too addictive._

Milk was right next to the green tea. It always was, in all three machines. The two were starkly contrasting, but it just seemed to be the unwritten law of things. It was one of drinks which were very much obviously good for you, something which you had since your birth, one of those drinks which your mother would always push at you. It was straightforward, with only one taste, and you either loved it or hated it.

_Too... Too plain._

Then came the soda, to the left of the orange juice. This one was apple soda, the type which would just go crack fizzle _pop _the second it got into your mouth, perhaps even taking a few taste buds away in the process. Altogether, Ami didn't like soda very much. Too headstrong, too full of energy, too many calories. Not enough refinement, not enough in-depth flavor, not enough nutritional value. The little-kid of the beverage world.

_Too... Too fun._

All of that pushed aside, it basically left her with mocha again. The chocolate-tinted coffee. Something which generally screamed sophistication and maturity, elegance and flavor. Something, she thought, the world assumed her to be. She pressed down on the button, retrieved her can, and squeezed into that small space between the two machines once again.

_Maybe I'll try something new... Tomorrow._

–

**A/N:**

Its been a while since I last updated, apologies for the wait, and thanks to those who are still reading this. Beverage analogies ftw, the 'drink identity' of each character should be rather obvious, no?

Again, comments suggestions and criticism appreciated, thank you for reading.


	8. Melting

It was a rehearsal.

I wore a veil, I didn't want a vow.

His breaths came out in short puffs. His lip was cracked to the left.

Five times.

It was warm. So warm.

–

It was a promise

I wore a veil, I didn't want a vow, I wanted something tangible.

His breathing was uneven. His lower lip was cracked.

Five times.

It was warm. So warm.

–

It was a promise.

I wore a veil, I wore a dress. I didn't want a vow, I didn't need a vow.

He was breathing fine, his face flushed. His lips weren't cracked, but I still said they were.

Three times.

It was warm. So warm.

–

It was a vow.

I wore a veil. I wanted something solid.

His chest was rising and dropping erratically. His lips looked soft.

Six times.

It was warm. So warm.

–

It was warm. So very very warm.

–

**A/N: **

_I know it doesn't look very good, but it was just a passing idea to me. The idea that your memory plays tricks on you when you think about the important things. But how details remain crystal clear. Ugh, its a confusing notion, but I hope you can get it._

_Thank you for all the reviews. Each and every one of them are extremely encouraging to me, and they all make me want to write more. And even if you didn't review, thank you for reading! The usual are greatly appreciated._


	9. Strawberry

She wanted it. And what she wanted,she got.

She pressed her lips on his again. And again. And again and again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pushed him backwards, almost stumbling, to let his back rest on the wall of the classroom. Her hand tangled itself in his short black hair as his -far more hesitantly- came to rest on the small of her back. Her tongue wagered its way into his mouth, fighting for dominance. Not that is was too hard, since his wasn't exactly putting up a fight.

Her other hand made its way to his uniform-covered back, alternatively stroking and scratching the navy material. They broke away, out of breath, their chests rising and falling erratically. His cheeks were flushed, and she was pretty sure hers weren't exactly an ivory pallor. She let a seductive smile form on her perfectly shell-pink lips, her eyes trailing up from his cheeks to his eyes.

His eyes, as fierce as they were, dead. Lacking passion, or any other emotion for that matter. If there was anything in it, it was confusion.

She felt her hands turn cold. Cold, like his eyes, as she would reflect later Those hands balled up, as she felt increasingly flushed (though not of the same reason from earlier), looking at that completely blank expression on the boy's face.

_This isn't supposed to happen. He's should want me. He's supposed to want me. He _will_ want me._

The passion faded, replaced by anger. The smile came back, sexier and with more meaning than before. Placing her hands on his chest, she pushed up against him again, placing kisses on his neck, his jawline, his cheek. She was just about to kiss him on the lips again, when she was brought to an arm's length away, a jarring distance, when you had been literally inches (or less) apart, a moment ago.

He frowned at her, examining her face. The smile slid from her lips.

"I think... I should go."

Ryuuji took his bag from the table, and left the class without another word.

Ami sat down heavily on the floor.

This wasn't supposed to happen. In her world, what she wanted, she got.

But she was no longer in solely _her_ world, was she?

–

**A/N:**  
_This one bothered me a lot, and it changed a lot from my first ideas of it. And just in case, this is still when Ami had a rather big attitude problem, early in the series. I'm sorry if it came out odd, I've never written such scenes before, and I'll try to improve, I promise!_

_Comments, suggestions (you guys gave me suggestions! Thank you!!) and criticism are always appreciated._


	10. Tuitti Fruitti

He had stared at the paper. The paper stared right back. Three-twenty-six in the afternoon, thirty-four more minutes till I can stop thinking about this, he thought. After five days, there's now only thirty-four more minutes.

_Thirty-four more minutes to this hell being over._

It didn't matter that his best friends had worked for his interest (his, and the whole school's, but details do not matter in times like these), day and night, for a whole week, for a cause that they themselves, were clearly not fit for. But it didn't matter to them for they did it for him, and they knew that he would want it in the end.

It didn't matter that his father had called him fucking crazy for throwing away something that he had been continually working for, for the past two years. _That he slapped me for the first time in both our lives, and that we both ignored the fact that it stung, and walked away._ It didn't matter to him either, he knew he was doing it for the good of his son.

It didn't matter, because he had decided. He had decided, and this would be it.

Because the thought of him doing it without her sent him into fits of coldness. It made his thoughts run simultaneously blank and rapid-fire at the exact same time. It made him want to throw up because of the anxiety. It made him want to cry tears unsuited for a man of seventeen, because he would (yet again, for the umpteenth time) remember that all he did for the past two years, was for the sake of her.

And she was leaving.

And it would be like walking in a labyrinth at the stroke of midnight, without a flashlight.

Like walking on the tightrope for the first time, without a safety net to catch him if he fell.

Like not being able to take the first step of a long marathon.

And it was that cowardliness, that pure, sheer fear which made him made him realize the worst thing of all: He was not worthy. Not of the job, not of her, not of anything else.

Reaching over the desk, Kitamura grabbed the paper. He resisted the urge to crumple it into a ball, toss it away like it didn't matter. It did. It did matter, but that was the point itself. It _did_ matter, but not anymore. He put it away.

It didn't matter that he died his hair blond and back.

It didn't matter that he might regret this for the rest of his life.

It didn't matter that he would be letting her down.

It didn't matter, because Kanō Sumire wasn't going to be here, and he wasn't going to do it without her.

And then _he_ came in.

And she walked by.

_And I had no idea how to face him. Or her. No idea how to talk to him. Or her._

_But now I do. _

"My application for student council president, sensei."

Four in the afternoon, on the dot.

_I made it._

–

**A/N:**  
_Apologies for the late update, my 'update' from last week turned into a one-shot (Rum and Raisin! Go read! Heh). Hope this one makes sense this time, aha. And thank you for all the reviews! Twenty-five of them, I'm well and truly flattered and happy. Every single one makes me more keen to write the next, fast! Thanks again, and more comments, criticism and suggestions are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!_

_This update was facilitated by ArmorBlade who suggested a Kitamura-based one!_


	11. Neapolitan

Taiga had no idea what to do. Be insulted? Openly upset? Grateful? Engulfed with laughter at the humor value of this situation?

For now, she was insulted.

For who was the one who breastfed the little tyke from her first days? Who was the one who gave birth to her? Who was the one who spent nine long months carrying an extra load or so, being extra emotional and temperamental?

She could feel the brief rush of emotions flood into her, as she stared down at the pink bundle. It was only natural to be upset, when such a mistake of identity was to take place, was it not?

The immense gratefulness set in. She remembered that really, other than the actual birth and the breastfeeding, she did little else. She wasn't the one who ran around doing all the shopping, all the chores and work. She never was the one to do all those things, and she would never have to, just as he promised, the day he finally (properly) proposed. The gratefulness which filled almost every day of her new life filled her again (not that she ever actually voiced this out, but she guessed that he knew it anyway).

"Mama," said little Chisame, pointing up proudly at Ryuuji, who was holding her in his arms, bottle-feeding his daughter.

He looked up, giving Taiga a half-pleading, half-pained look.

Taiga decided, and laughter of three filled the room.

–

**A/N:**  
_A short one, I thought it was a cute idea. Sorry for not updating much, I'll try to do so more often! Comments, suggestions and reviews will always be appreciated and much loved! Thanks for reading! _


	12. Lemon

There were days where he would feel it. The overwhelming pining for someone who wasn't here. He would see her in every cloud, doodle her face in every lessons, mistake every short blond for her. The days where he would notice the un-occupied seat next to him when the five (no wait, now four) of them sat down for lunch. The feeling would go away.

There were days where he would forget that she was gone. Where he would call out "Taiga, help me set the table?", only to hear the echo of his voice in the empty house. He would go set the table himself, for two. Not three, two. He would accidentally pack two bentos instead of one, and end up leaving it there on the table to slowly turn bad. The feeling would go away.

There were days where he would feel perfectly alright. He would do go to school, pay attention in lessons, eat lunch with Kitamura, Ami and Minori, buy groceries, go home. He would do his homework alone, instead of with another, cook for two instead of three, and all feel perfectly alright with the world. The feeling would go away.

There were days where he would feel nostalgic. He would stare at that picture of the clear night sky, with a solitary star marring the perfect blackness. He would absently rub the cool, smooth surface of her favorite mug, mend that dress which he never quite finished mending for her, even though he tried, every day, since she left. For when she would come back. The feeling would go away.

There were days where he would think about it. Lie awake, thinking about anything and everything, wondering what would have happened if he said things differently, done things differently. If he hadn't proposed in the middle of a cold stream, hadn't kissed her that night. He would review every moment which could have been a turning point, regretting (or cherishing) them all. The feeling would go away.

There were days where he would imagine seeing her in their class as he left the school, her blond hair behind her, flowing with the wind. He would run up the stairs each and every time, and find no one.

Not today.

As he looked down at her, dressed in a blue school uniform which he wasn't quite used to seeing, her eyes looking at everywhere except for him, he knew. He knew that even he couldn't be imagining it. He could feel it. The total, overwhelming power of all those days.

"I love you."

The feeling never went away.

–

**A/N:**  
_Lemons are always thought to be sour, when really, they can be nice and sweet too. Lets see how you read this explanation. (And no, I don't mean lemons as in the rating)_

_Thanks for reading, every single one of you guys! Even more so for the comments. Hope you enjoy these!_


	13. Chocolate

Taiga frowned at her own reflection in the fogged up mirror of the bathroom. Just for the record, she didn't do this much. She wasn't vain, she wasn't overly concerned about her appearance. Well. Not usually. But today was different, and Science classes were getting a lot more informative than they usually were.

_Girls experience puberty around the ages of nine to fourteen._

Her hands wandered from her face, to her shoulders, to her hips. She didn't look very different, did she? All the squishy parts still seemed to be squishy, all the muscle-parts still seemed... Like muscle.

_Changes include growth spurts._

Seeing as she didn't have a measuring tape, Taiga couldn't be really sure, but she was, to a certain extent, confident that she hadn't grown. She still needed to tip-toe to look through the door's peephole, still had waitresses ask for her age in restaurants.

_As well as pubic hair._

A squeamish ten year-old Taiga _really_ didn't want to check too much or too often, but she, again, was rather sure that there wasn't any more hair than there was on her head. I_ mean, hair... There? Wouldn't that be awfully itchy...?_

The widening of hips are also usually prominent.

Placing her hands on her hips, Taiga (regrettably) realised that there really was no difference between her hips and her waist, other than her hip-bone being present at the former. A wrinkle of concentration formed between her brows, as she tried to squeeze her waist inwards, forcing some shape out. It didn't work.

_The beginning of the ovulation cycle usually starts around this age._

Now, this was the one thing which Taiga got. Trust her to get the worst out of all the possible things of puberty. Period cramps hurt, and she was always extra cranky during that one week (not that anyone could see a noticeable change in her behavior).

_Breast development is also a significant change._

And placing her hands on her chest, Taiga was rather dismayed (dismayed, though not shocked) to discover that she was, essentially, flat. Standing sideways, her profile mirrored, the facts didn't change.

Putting on her clothes, Taiga numbly contemplated this. This whole... Compilation of yucky stuff.

_Maybe the physical ones come later. They will._

–

**A/N:**  
_Puberty couldn't have been too kind to a loli. And chocolate, because every girl has a chocolate craving at least once._


	14. Stracciatella

This was the day. _The_ day. The opening night to all of their rehearsals, where all those awkward feelings throughout the years would finally come to something solid. Rock solid. Everything, they had planned out, and things were going to be perfect.

As she clutched the lilies in her hand, three-inch heels on her feet (which bloody _hurt_), a sheer veil (a real one, no more sheets which covered her from head to toe) on her neatly pinned and curled golden locks, and the most beautiful white dress on her, she _felt _perfect.

Even better was the young man standing next to her, in an all-black ensemble. Such was not common, for the groom usually wore a white shirt of sorts. However, for most of the couple's lives, they've spent it complimenting each other with their polar-opposite personalities, so they decided that this would be the most suitable. Black and white, such stark-different colors, yet wholly complimenting the other, bringing out the best of each. And for him, with her looking up at him through her eyelashes (curled? He thought he'd never see the day), _he_ felt perfect. Perfect, and blissfully, deliriously happy.

It was perfect. To the couple to be wed, to the two maids of honor, to the best man.

But upon every parade, some rain has to fall.

"Ryuuji... Psst. Ryuuji!"

The groom shifted his gaze to the bride.

"... What?"

"I think my breast patch fell."

–

**A/N:**

_This chapter is dedicated to inuzuka pau, awesome fellow-writer, and reviewer! She gave the idea of Taiga wearing the breast patch on her wedding day, plus this ice cream flavor, Stracciatella. Apparently, this is one flavour of ice-cream you have to eat with someone else; Fitting for a wedding, no?_

_Also, as a side note, I will be re-vamping some of my previous chapters (chapter 1 will be done first), so watch out for them, yes? I'll tell you guys when a chapter's been replaced._

_Thanks for reading! Feedback and suggestions are all welcome, as always._


	15. Passionfruit

"But you're a _girl_!"

Minorin's eyes narrowed. She knew that! She didn't need some bossy ten year old (So what! It was just two years, for god's sake!) telling her the blatantly obvious. And even so, so what if she was a girl? Girls were just as good as guys. She could bat just as well as him, catch just as well, pitch _twice_ as well.

"Doesn't matter," she said, lifting her eyes up to stare defiantly at his amethyst eyes, almost identical to her own. The words sounded good. "It doesn't matter, and I don't want you guys to go easy on me," she repeated, pushing her baseball cap down to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun.

This wasn't the first time they were refusing her, but she, as she trotted along behind her brother, was sure to make this the _last_. And not because she would stop asking.

"Hey Minoru! Is your sister playing or not?"

Looking to the field, both siblings could see that the whole team was waiting on the pitch.

Kushieda Minoru frowned down at his little sister. Face it, at age ten, you really don't want your little sister tagging along with you everywhere she went. And now she wanted to play with his friends! What if she embarrassed him? But it was too late for that, as he turned to face the field again.

"Do whatever you want."

She grinned, her whole face lit with the victory of winning the argument. Her brother always got his way, but not this time. She was going to prove it this time. Prove it that she was _not_ weak.

He was the one her parents put all of their hopes onto, the one who her father took to games (while Minori would sneak into the car behind them), the one who her mother went to games for. And she had to be content with picking up the game by herself, letting her mother tell her that baseball wasn't for little girls.

Was she going to show them.

The game went on, with her barely able to keep up with the comparatively speedy throws and fast games. Playing outfield for the most of the game wasn't exactly the most exciting spot to be, but she was playing. Just a few more turns, and she would ask if she could pitc-

"Ne, Kushieda, wanna pitch?"

Minori frowned at the thought of her brother getting another chance to pitch. _She_ wanted to pitch! Outfield was well enough an achievement, but pitching would be like the cherry on top of the metaphorical ice cream sundae.

Then she realised that the boy who had asked was looking at her. She blinked a bit, checking if her brother was standing behind her, or anything of the (disappointing) sort. He wasn't. She grinned.

"YES!" she shouted, running at full speed towards the diamond. She could hear some of the guys laughing, but frankly, she didn't care.

And what luck. There, in the batter's cage, was her own brother. She grinned even wider. All the better, she thought to herself, her hand shaking in anticipation at this impressively huge chance.

As she twisted her body back, getting ready for the pitch, which was when she realised: She was scared. This would be her one and only chance, the only chance she would probably get in a long time. I mean, it wasn't every day that Minoru's friends would allow his little sister to play with them (I mean, how uncool is that!). So she had to do this.

And she had to do this _right_.

She glared at her brother, like she had seen multiple pitchers do in the shows, psyching the batter out. His face remained emotionless and slightly clenched. He had to do this right too (after all, how could he lose to his little sister!).

Her eyes squeezed shut with the effort of concentration. The concentration of all her feelings towards the game, the concentration of her immense need to do this well. And then she threw.


	16. Yogurt

"Takasu-chan, I didn't know you had a little sister! She's so cute~"

"Ne, Takasu! You never told me you had an sister! How old is she? Hey come on, introduce me!"

"So will that be one adult and one child ticket?"

Ryuuji's frown became more deep-set with every comment.

"Oh! Ryuuji-kun! Did you take up that baby-sitting job I had recommended to-"

He couldn't take it any more, so he bent down and kissed her square on the lips. The lady's cheeks went pink at the sight.

"No. She's my girlfriend." He said, his own cheeks stained red, as he grabbed Taiga's hand and walked on. He could hear whispering behind him, but he blocked it out. All except for one comment.

"I didn't think Ryuuji-san had pedophilic tendencies ..."

He resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall, even when he heard a small laugh escape from the girl walking beside him.

–

**A/N:**  
_Well, it might happen, no? So here's the promised double! Hope you found it entertaining, comments (of any kind) and suggestions are always loved, and they make me want to write more! Thanks for reading._


	17. Cookies and Cream

He couldn't do anything else but blink. Simply stare at the carefully done gold embroidery of his initials and blink to check if he wasn't seeing things.

He couldn't help but notice the double meaning.

Of course, if they (as he liked to think of it, for the great embarrassment of openly thinking of the actual word, 'got married') did _it_, she would come to be known as Takasu Taiga. That was how it was usually done, at very least.

But one must always consider the possibilities of henpecked husbands.

_Haha, let's not be silly here... The husband can't possibly take the wife's name._

Still, as he looked down at the stitching of 'R. Aisaka', he couldn't help but wonder if there were any husbands in Japan who actually did take their wives' name as their own. Which was about the same time as he came to realise he was thinking about... _it_.

"Hey, you're doing it too slow. You can mend clothes, cook beef steak, clear the mold stuck in the windowsill crevices, but can't un-pick some embrodery done in-"

He felt his cheeks colour at her words, reinforcing the visions of henpecked husbands in aprons, dancing around in his head.

"Shut up. I'm getting to it."

As he stuck the thread-remover into the "R", he couldn't help but feel relieved at the removal of the name from the suit. Considering it was going to be his now.

–

**A/N:**  
_I always wondered if I were the only one who picked up on this one. Maybe?_

_Holy crap, I just realized that the version of Passionfruit which I put up, wasn't the fully completed one. Gosh. Or maybe I should just leave it like that..._

_Thank you for reading, and all your awesome comments! Always appreciated._


	18. Scooper

"You came back."

"Yes, I did"

"... Why?"  
The male lead smiles a smile crafted to swoon women of all ages all around the world.

"Because I love you, Sanada Yui."

Que the beautiful melody of Love, the heartstring-tugging tears-in-eyes, and the warmly affectionate hug.

Taiga frowned, as the ending credits scrolled up on the screen. Mulling over her thoughts, she got up and stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling length mirrors in her apartment, staring at her own reflection.

"I love you."

She saw her own mouth move with every syllable, her voice echo in the empty room. It didn't sound right.

"Because I love you, Ryuuji."

It still didn't sound right. It was like when you said a single word far too many times, and all the different inflections of tone and single-syllables became all mushed up in your head, and the word loses its meaning.

"Takasu Ryuuji, I love you."

The slight tint of color in her face was spreading, and she still wasn't getting this right. God. This was getting irritating.

"I love you, Ryuuji!"

She wasn't even accustomed to saying those four words to herself, in the privacy of her own mind, let alone out loud. It seemed foreign, even there, which she thought would change if she actually voiced it out. Things change when you say them out loud, right? Apparently not. It still seemed as odd as it had. The flush rose, though not only due to the embarrassment of practicing proclamations of unbridled affection at the mirror.

"RYUUJI. I FREAKING LOVE YOU, ALRIGHT?'

_Oh god. Did that sound as embarrassing as I thought it did?_

The sound bounced of seemingly unnaturally off the walls, making it sound disjointed and almost jarring, tossing her own voice right back at her.

… _It did. that was loud-_

"Oi, Taiga! Did you call me?" The rapping of an end of a broomstick onto her glass windows could be heard.

"_Baka inu_! Who would call you!" She shouted off the bat; A complete reflex. She could almost hear the sigh which came from the other side of the glass. Taiga slumped against the mirror.

It was the only thing which sounded right.

–

**A/N:**

_Ugh, work's catching up with me, so less updates now. It was a great play on Taiga's tsundere-ness, which was fun to write. Hope you enjoyed it, comments and suggestions always appreciated. 'Scooper', because there really is no wrong or right way to scoop ice-cream, as long as you get it out of the tub, no?_


	19. Taste Test

"Ahah! Sure, Kawashima-chan, of course you could have it! There's nothing in my store that you-"

A seven year old Ami stormed out of the shop, without even taking the giant lollipop she had asked for.

–

Kawashima Ami was not at all happy. Even though at age seven, she already had a professional modeling contract, parents who were willing to go to the ends of the Earth to make her happy, schoolmates who god-worshiped her (as much as seven year olds did, at least), and neighbors who were more than willing to support her in every way possible. What was there _not_ to be happy about? Nothing, absolutely nothing. Girls her age would kill to be in her shoes, all girls. Except for Ami herself. Because early on in life (right about now), Ami learned that too much of a good thing resulted in a bad thing. A very bad thing indeed.

Because no one ever said no to her.

Which was, as a whole, a ridiculous thing to be unhappy about. Which kid didn't want a resounding 'yes!' to every single demand, whim or want? None, except for Kawashima Ami. Because getting everything she wanted was slowly, along with everything else, getting boring. Obtaining every whim was only half as fun, because you _weren't_ allowed to get it under normal circumstances; The restricted always had an extra lure. And that shiny candy-coating had been taken off everything in Ami's life. Literally, what she wanted, she always got. Be it lollipops, toys, clothes, or anything else, it was given to her on a silver platter, and she was currently sick of it.

So now, Ami was on a mission: To hear the word 'no'.

–

But like all other seven year olds, Ami had an excessively short attention span, and by the end of the third day of her grand quest, she was already in tears at the lack of results. For the past three days, she did nothing but demand the impossible of her friends, want the best from her parents, spoke against the teacher, but none of them did anything. It was quite frustrating.

All the pent up irritation broke the metaphorical dam, as she sat on the swing of a near-by playground, and for the lack of a better or more accurate word, bawled her eyes out. Then came footsteps against sand.

"Tissue," she demanded, on a reflex.

"Don't have any," came a reply, as matter-of-fact as her demand.

"Handkerchief," Ami sniffled, not bothering to look up.

"Don't wanna. You're all yucky."

"Your sleeve. Now."

"No."

Ami looked up, her eyes red, her nose dripping with snot, the edges of her mouth still wrong side-up from her usual cute smile. It has to be said, that even with all that, Ami still did look impressively cute, in a vulnerable kind of way, which made most people want to just go over and give her a big hug, and tell her that it would all be okay, because she was Kawashima Ami, and she could do anything.

Evidently, her look didn't have the same effect on this boy. This boy, who was standing in front of her, with his short black (helmet-cut) hair and perfectly round glasses, wrinkling his nose at her. It was the first time Ami had seen such an expression displayed towards her. But right then, this was the least of her worries, for she was crying and messy and snot-y, and she wanted a tissue _now_.

"I WANT A HANDKERCHIEF. NOW." Ami cried, her eyes narrowing at the unsuspecting boy. His eyes widened, but he made no attempt to move.

Now he really did it.

Because even though she had repeatedly insisted to herself that she wanted a change in people, for someone to say no to her for just once, when it actually happened, it really was quite an unhappy moment for her.

"WHY CAN'T YOU GIVE ME A HANDKERCHIEF. OR A TISSUE? I WANT A HANDKERCHIEF OR A TISSUE. NOW. NOW NOW NOW NOW!"

And for that moment, she let go of all the "Image" her parents had carefully taught her to build up, all the social etiquette drilled at a young age. For no matter how much she had previously wanted it, it pretty much sucked to have someone say no to you when you really didn't want it.

The boy just laughed. He stood there, and laughed and laughed.

"You're funny," he grinned, sticking a hand out at her. "Wanna be friends?"

Ami just blinked, staring unbelievingly at him. She just threw a temper, cried, and shouted at him. And he wanted to be _friends_? But Ami wasn't going to be fooled. She wiped her tears onto her own sleeve, then took a critical once-over of him, catching the glimpse of two lollipops sticking out of his shorts.

"I want the lollipop."

He looked down at his pocket, then back at her. "Don't wanna."

"But you have two."

"Still. No."

Ami grinned, and stuck her hand out to grasp his.

"Friends."

–

**A/N: **

_Cute, no? Haha. I liked this one, although it turned out different from how I wanted it to be. Inspired by Ami's character song, "Yes!", even though I didn't understand a lick of it, heh. Comments and suggestions always loved, hoped you enjoyed reading this!_


	20. For Breakfast

**Disclaimer**: _Although nothing is explicitly described, there may be some content in this story which might possibly (for the lack of a better word) 'turn some people off'. Somewhat NC-16, but no out-right smut. You have been warned._

–

Kushieda Minori remembered the first time she had ice cream for breakfast.

Aged seven, she woke up especially early, snuck past Minoru's bed next to hers', down the quiet hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, all at six in the morning. She dragged the large wooden chairs across the tiled floor in her socks, pushing it up against the refrigerator. After much clambering (and falling) and tip-toeing, the bounty was successfully in her hands. She could see the cold wafts of air escape from its open lid, as she placed it on the table, spoon in hand.

And for a few, glorious moments, she simply stared. Stared at the beautiful, creamy-white speckled-black surface in front of her, basking in the adrenaline of doing something forbidden and indulgent for the first time. Just the afterglow of the success of getting the new tub of chocolate-chip ice-cream out of the freezer and into her hands was enough to convince Minori that this was too good a thing not to do again. She contemplated the thought for a few moments, before closing her eyes in an almost reverent state of prayer to the Ice-Cream God.

"Ittadakimasu," she whispered, half-worried that someone would hear, half-concerned that if her mother _did_ find out, she would mercilessly nag at her for her lack of table manners.

With that, she dug in.

Half a tub of ice-cream later, Kushieda Tomoyo came into the kitchen at seven-thirty, to find her daughter asleep, with a tub of melted chocolate-chip ice-cream on the side. Sighing, she lifted the little girl and put her back into bed.

Minori didn't remember that, but she did remember the awful stomachache she had for the rest of the day. She remembered going around the house for the rest of the morning, clutching her stomach, whining to be relieved of the pain already. At mid-morning, she threw up into the toilet bowl, with her mother around to pull her hair back, as her only daughter regurgitated half of the new tub of ice-cream.

"Minorin, this is why you're not supposed to eat ice-cream in the morning. Ice-cream is a good thing, isn't it? But too much of a good thing too early isn't good for you. It only makes you sick."

Minori would have nodded if she could, but vomiting has a way of occupying your every last ounce of energy, so she just settled for keeping it in memory.

–

It was seven in the morning, and Minori was awake.

Nothing wrong with being awake a seven in the morning, it was what she usually did.

But there was something wrong about being awake at seven in the morning, lying naked on the futon, with an equally naked Takasu Ryuuji beside her, his arm draped over her abdomen. Minori assumed that in most situations, this would be considered a highly affectionate and somewhat endearing position, but to her, right then, it just felt extremely cold.

She'd been lying there for an hour, contemplating that coldness which seemed to perpetually wash over her from her toes to the tips of her hair, even though it was twenty-nine degrees Celsius outside, and she had a blanket covering her naked body.

Earlier, she had attempted to move her head, only to be viciously attacked by a throbbing headache, and waves of nausea; Characteristic to a hangover. Not that she ever had one before. But judging by how it felt right now, she was doubtful that she would ever let herself experience another one.

And then looking to her left, and seeing the face of one of her best friends, she was _very_ sure that she would never even want to touch alcohol ever again. Even more so when distorted bits of the previous night came back to her.

_She could remember heat. A lot of heat. Heat spreading throughout her body, starting from her lips which were joined with another, spreading to the tips of her fingers, making her toes curl most pleasantly. Minori didn't know if it was the alcohol or the kiss, but that addictive fire was spreading, and all she could coherently process was the need for more of it. _

_She could remember stumbling through the door of the Takasu household, her wondering what on earth Yasuko would think, if she saw the two of them right then, bodies flush against each other, quite literally sucking each other's face off, slowly stripping. _

_She could remember more heat. Much more heat. Apparently, her Science teacher was wrong. Because clothes did not, as she had been taught, provide more heat. Right then, as she was personally experiencing (the things textbooks couldn't teach a student) the fact that the heat (and the friction; Oh the _friction_) was so much more apparent without clothes on. _

_She remembered (the only perfectly clear memory of the previous night) Ryuuji pulling away, looking at her with lust-filled eyes, asking if she was sure she wanted this. Minori recalled thinking that the two didn't match up, but not caring anyway, and pulling him down by the tie and kissing him anyway._

_She remembered moans. Moans and groans. Moans and groans and lust-encased sighs._

_She remembered how completely indulgent the whole experience felt, like she was tasting something forbidden. How much it felt like she was eating ice-cream for breakfast._

And then she felt the arm across her stir. Shifting, her own amethyst pupils met deep-sea-blue ones, just inches apart. They remained like that for quite a while, not saying anything, simply studying each other, letting the reality of the situation sink in.

If this were an anime, a manga, or any other form of mass-produced entertainment, perhaps they would have said cursed in unison, hugged each other, or maybe even turned away, back to denial. But it wasn't. Because, as they stared at each other, they slowly realised that this was reality. This was their reality, something that they did, that no matter how much they would want to try, they couldn't erase.

_Shit._

She could see his lips open, attempting to reach for something which would make this better, something completely Ryuuji-like which would make everything alright again.

Minori didn't need that.

She yanked herself up and into the toilet (not caring for once, that she was stark naked), and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her lip-stick was smudged, her blusher faded on one cheek. Her hands had the dark-pink traces of scratch marks, similar ones on her neck, in glaring contrast to her pale skin. She couldn't help it.

Bending her head forward, she threw up into the sink.

She waited and waited (and vomited and vomited), but no one pulled her hair back for her.

–

**A/N:**  
Well, everyone makes mistakes. Possibility of there being a Ryuuji version to this story, which is kind of like a 'what if' to Rum and Raisin, if you've read it, and get what I mean. Please tell me what you think, yeah?


	21. Tiramisu

"Ne, did you hear?"

"Hm? About?"

"Kushieda-sempai! Someone said that Kushieda-sempai was going out with that guy in her class...

What was his name..."

"Ehhh? Are you guys talking about Minorin-sempai and that Takasu Ryuuji-san?"

"Ah yes yes! Takasu Ryuuji! That's his name. He's the guy with the really scary face, right right?"

"Ara! That guy? But why would Minori-sempai go with a guy like that?"

"Baka. Haven't you heard of love?"

"They don't _look_ like they're in love, do they-"

"But I heard that Takasu-sempai was with another girl-"

"Ah! Tenori Taiga? Aisaka-sempai?"

"Oho! That's hilarious! They don't go together at all!"

"Aha yeah. Takasu-san would look so much better with Minorin-sempai! Don't you guys think so too?"

"Mmhmm. Hey hey, did you hear about..."

Minori let herself slump against the back of her locker, gravity taking her down to the cold tiled floor of the girls' locker room. She didn't want to hear any more gossip.

Since she herself couldn't tell between the real and the false ones.

–

**A/N:**

For Dinner _isn't writing itself as smoothly as it should have, so I decided to post up another one first. I'll try to finish up _For Dinner_ as soon as, well, it decides to. Also, I've more or less decided to cap off this set of drabbles at 25 chapters, and perhaps start on a new set, with a different fandom. Thanks for reading again! _


End file.
